


What We Do In A Pack

by miscfics (twowritehands)



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (2014)
Genre: Claiming Bites, Coming Out, Knotting, M/M, Soul Bond, Vampire Sex, Werewolf Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27761065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twowritehands/pseuds/miscfics
Summary: Deacon likes werewolves.
Relationships: Anton/Deacon (What We Do In the Shadows), Deacon/Stu (What We Do in the Shadows)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	What We Do In A Pack

The werewolves were good sports and helped cover all windows before sunrise. The Welcome Back Stu party was dying down, most of the pack had returned to their families. But Stu and a few others had nowhere else better to be, and were welcome to sleep off the booze here. Their dark powers did not prevent them from inebriation, which was, like... what was even the point then? Dicks, all of them. But nice dicks. Fun crowd, really.

Deacon said goodnight and headed up stairs, privately marveling at what the world had become. A century ago, he never imagined a life like this one with such innovation and _tolerance_ among peoples. “Remarkable,” he muttered.

A floorboard creaked behind him. He turned with a startled hiss.

Anton lifted his hands. “Whoa, mate. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

Behind him, one of the secondary camera men was crouched in the shadows on the stairs, lense pointed right at them. It was making that irritating little buzz sound as it zoomed which only seemed to happen when Deacon was feeling the least cool.

Deacon collected himself. “Vat are you doing up here?”

Anton came closer, so slowly it was menacing, or maybe that was only his eyes.They looked... hungry. Deacon glanced at the camera guy.

“Just lookin’ for a place to crash for the night,” the werewolf said. “Is there a guest bedroom or something?”

“No.” The camera made that zoomy sound again. Deacon decided to just ignore it.

Anton glanced at the closed door behind Deacon, who finally comprehended the desire in those predatory eyes. His dick twitched but he ignored that even more than the filmmaker. What he suddenly could not ignore was how thick Anton actually was. His chest and arms, even his legs, looked swollen and firm.

“We could...share a bed, if ya like. If that’s your sort of thing.” Anton suggested genially. As if it were his house, his room. The nerve of werewolves sometimes.

Deacon smirked and pushed open the door, revealing the tiny broom closet. “I don’t have one.” _Dick_ he added mentally. He didn’t say it out loud or the ensuing fight might summon more cameras.

Anton frowned and moved past Deacon to have a proper look inside. “You sleep in _there_ , mate? You can’t even lie down. The floor isn’t big enough.”

“I hang. Like a bat.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. A shame then isn’t it? I’d quite like to throw you down on a proper bed sometime.”

“Excuse me,” Deacon said, pretending outrage because that was what a vampire was supposed to do when a werewolf got fresh. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the camera guy moving closer which only fueled his ire. He bared his fangs.

Anton’s confidence wavered. “Have I got it wrong? I thought I smelled your desire.”

Deacon rolled his eyes. “Vhat does desire even smell like?”

“Well it’s different for everyone. But yours…” Anton’s chest expanded. Blue eyes dragged over Deacon slowly. “Like... hot strawberries.”

Deacon’s brow bunched. “That is bullshit.”

“No really, I mean, it’s faint. It’s only a trace whiff. But I can always smell it on you.”

Something inside Deacon's chest tightened. “Not alvays.”

“Yeah. All the time. I’ve never seen you and not smelled it, which makes sense, doesn’t it?”

His chest was so tight now he couldn't breathe. “Vhat makes sense?”

“You like werewolves.That’s why you’re aroused in my presence.”

A body rush. Deacon took a full step back. “I do not.”

Anton grinned. “Mate, you’ve knit yourself a little jersey with a moon on it. And you always lead your friends down our street and get us riled up whenever you can because… Well, that excites you, doesn’t it?”

“How dare you. I do not get excited by savage, hairy devils.”

“I can smell the truth, remember.” Anton promised.

Deacon gulped.

It was forbidden. Vampires were a much higher echelon than filthy werewolves. Vampirism improved upon the human condition, removing disease and the slow rot of death, adding superhuman speed and strength, even telepathic powers. Lycanthropy was devolution. Humanity without reason, without even _opposable thumbs_. Such dicks.

Yet everything Anton was saying was true. He did always seek the wolves for the fun of tormenting them. And the most telling evidence of all was his jersey. He never planned a jersey's design before beginning, always letting inspiration guide him in what colors and patterns to use. He had knit this one while celebrating the wonders of the night. It wasn’t until this moment that the prominence of the moon--the truth behind that inspiration--came to light in Deacon’s mind.

Did he really have a thing for werewolves? Oh shit.

“Listen, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re drawn to me. It’s the effects of my alpha maleness.”

“Alpha…?”

“Maleness, yeah. Sort of a magnetism I can’t control. It takes over the will of weaker people, and gives them my will instead.”

Deacon hissed. “I am not weaker than you, _dog_.”

"It's okay. Lots of people can't resist an alpha."

Accepting the challenge, Deacon puffed up. “I can.” he said, pointedly occupying the small room. If he wanted a werewolf he would have Stu, not this pompous asshole. “Good night.”

Anton backed off with an amused smile. “I stand corrected. Good night.”

The door shut, sealing Deacon in darkness and silence. Instant regret twisted his stomach. He could be having sex right now. Sex in non-animal form for a change, sex that could repeat many more times because he couldn’t eat them. Someone who wouldn’t die of old age either.

What had he been thinking to say no? 

Stu was a great guy but would he be a great lover? And what would the others feel about him and Stu? Disgusted, probably. Also there was the Nick issue. It would be trouble enough to date a werewolf. He would do better to find one without ties to the most annoying vampire in Wellington.

***

Viago joined Deacon at the kitchen table. He had a nervous grin on his face due to the camera following him. Deacon inwardly sighed and focused on the yarn and needles in his hands.

"You are doing your angry knitting, Deacon. Is everything alright?"

The needles had been clacking together quite loudly but now softened. Deacon put his nose in the air. "There is no problem here."

"Really? Because, um, the others and I, we've noticed that you are super moody lately, and you've gone cold to Stu, for some reason, and none of us can figure it out."

"I'm fine." Deacon insisted. 

Viago looked at the camera and then he gently picked up the corner of the knit project.

"So, what are you working on here? Oh, look at zat! Ze vampire symbol."

Deacon grinned, always pleased to show off his artwork. "Yes. I am knitting a vampire pride jersey. There is a big black ankh in the center with some different lines just criss crossing in the background to add color and just really make the vampire symbol pop."

Viago helped hold the jersey up for a good shot with the camera. Deacon saw his friend's brows pinch.

"It looks a lot like a werevolf symbol in ze background."

"Vhat?"

"It looks a lot like a werewolf symbol in ze background. See dat? Zat looks like a pentagram. Ze werewolf symbol."

Like a magic eye picture, the true pattern revealed itself. Deacon's randomly arranged lines had formed a multicolored pentagram cradling the ankh. 

"Son of a bitch," he muttered.

***

There was only one werewolf nightclub in town, and they wouldn’t invite a vampire inside. Deacon was still trying when Anton walked up, flanked by Stu and two others.

Deacon pointedly greeted Stu first which caused a ripple of tension. Stu looked at the ground and did not acknowledge Deacon until Anton spoke, 

“Hello, Deacon."

"Yeah, hi, Deak," Stu said as the others mumbled less warm welcomes. 

Anton looked around. "Where're your mates, and the camera crew?"

They had been there, but, after 2 hours, lost all interest in filming any more attempts to enter the club. Plus, none of the others had been enthusiastic about the smell inside. "They film the others tonight. At Big Kahuna."

"Do you want to come inside?”

The invisible barrier vanished, granting Deacon access to the building. Relief and triumph was actually eclipsed by the sight of Anton's shit eating grin.

"Thank you." _Dick_.

There were a lot of people inside. The air was thick with body heat and the scent of wolves. Deacon scanned the room and targeted a handsome werewolf on the dancefloor. 

An hour later, he had been rejected so many times, he became desperate and sought out the one wolf he knew wouldn't turn him down. 

"Hello, Stu."

"Hi, Deak. Having fun?"

"Not yet. Want to dance or maybe just skip right to having some sex?"

Stu looked troubled. “It sounds like fun, but I just can’t. You’re out of bounds.”

“Out of bounds. Because of Nick?”

Stu pulled a face. “No. Because of Anton. You’re his. It’s suicide to take from the alpha.”

“I’m _vhat_?”

Stu shrugged.

Livid, Deacon sought out Anton, who was directing everyone’s fun from a place at the bar.

“I am not your property!”

Anton sipped his beer and shrugged. “No one said you were.”

“Stu says I am out of bounds. You put me out of bounds!”

“Only until I’ve had you first. It’s what we do in a pack.”

Deacon paused, temporarily breathless from the imagery of the orgy that might very well commence, once the alpha received proper dues. (Was that really such a tough price to pay for unlimited sex?)

Deacon scanned the room and saw many an eye avert from him guiltily. They were interested. Just not allowed.

Hot under the collar, Deacon shifted his feet. “Fine.”

Anton paused mid sip, eyes cutting to him. He swallowed loudly and licked his lips. “Tonight?”

Deacon gulped and nodded.

Anton eyed him, stood up which put him in very close proximity to Deacon--so close, the air he exhaled was what Deacon inhaled--and said lowly, “Come with me then.”

When Anton moved away, it was as if he pulled Deacon’s breath with him so that Deacon had no choice but to follow. It felt very much like when he was starved for the taste of blood and a virgin was silly enough to expose their jugular. The wash of potent hunger. The promise of something hot, sweet and satisfying.

In a corner, Anton pushed Deacon against the wall and kissed him.

He hadn't been kissed in at least a century. Not since he abandoned the practice of seducing his meals, resorting to sex in animal form. He had forgotten the thrill of soft lips and scratchy beard, the fluttering surprise of shy tongue. 

He opened further and Anton delved deeper with a gruff sound, pressing his body against Deacon. He was like a hot towel out of the dryer. Deacon wanted more, and clutched him closer.

Anton kissed down his throat, over the ancient scar there--Deacon shook with sudden vulnerability. Anton licked the sensitive spot and a whimper escaped Deacon's throat. 

Behind Anton, Deacon could see the rest of the club. Most of the wolves had stopped dancing and were now watching. He liked the way their eyes were dark with desire.

Big, rough hands undid Deacon's leather pants. His breathing hitched. "Here? Like this?"

Anton paused and looked him in the eye. "Is that alright? Are you uncomfortable with an audience?"

Actually, he wanted it so hard he couldn't even speak. Deacon shook his head. 

Anton grinned and caressed his face. "You're nervous."

"Don't stop."

Anton kissed him and pressed close again. Deacon felt like he was going to burst. Animals didn't bother with foreplay, he'd forgotten the sensation of it. The exquisite torture.

Anton turned him around, face against the wall. "God, you're so primed. So sexy," he growled low in his ear. "Ready for it?"

Deacon nodded, silently begging, tongue too tied to form the words. Yet it was like Anton just knew.

He tugged his hips off the wall, pushed the leather pants down to his knees. The slick head of a big cock began to stretch him, a little at a time until he fit.

Deacon couldn't breathe or move a muscle. Anton pulled him off the wall, cradling him against his firm, warm body. He made soothing noises softly in Deacon's ear. 

"That's right. Oh, fuck you're tight. Feels so good."

"Deep," he managed to choke. Anton was so deep Deacon was sure no one had ever reached that far inside of him.

"You want it deeper?" Anton asked, even as he sank further. Deacon gurgled and whimpered with amazement. The push didn't even bring their hips together. He couldn't believe it. "More?"

Anton chuckled and stroked his spine, going up his shirt. "That's all besides the knot."

The bottom of his stomach dropped. He twisted futilely to try and see with his own eyes. "You have--a--?!"

"Sshh. Don't worry, mate. I won't put it in. I promise. Going to move now. You just hang on, and make it a show for the boys, yeah?"

Deacon chuckled and agreed. The next several minutes went by in a fiery blur of acute pleasure that grew and grew, stacked on top of itself until Deacon was on a teetering tower that would collapse into the inferno of ecstasy. 

Deacon became aware of how Anton was holding back, forced to use shallow thrusts, trembling with the effort of controlling himself. 

Unafraid, greedy, Deacon pushed himself back hard, enveloping the thick burning knot at the base of Anton's cock. But Anton's rhythm forced it back out again, doubling the zing of pain.

"HOSHIT!" Anton yelped, freezing. "Fuck. I'm sorry, mate. Are you okay?

Deacon bowed, tense and hissing. "Yes. Yes. I'm fine." he gulped. "Do that again."

Anton breathed heavily, and his voice was hoarse, "I don't want to hurt you."

"Please," Deacon sneered, finding his former superiority. But he made the mistake of glancing backwards into those blue eyes, and lost it. Desire nearly choked him. "Please?"

He saw Anton waver, and pounced by adding, "You can go slowly."

Anton kissed the back of his neck and sank back inside, all the way to the knot where he took a deep breath and shoved it in. Stuffed to the limit with a burning hot knot, Deacon let out a verbal shiver and then laughed.

"You like that?"

"Yesss. Now hold on tight."

Their feet left the floor. Anton gasped as they levitated to the ceiling. The pack below looked up at them with shock and awe. 

Anton clung to him. "This is amazing. Fuck, I didn't know you can fly in human form."

Deacon felt invincible. "Just as I didn't realize you had the knot."

Anton found his footing on the ceiling and grinned wolfishly. "Oh hell yeah."

Below the other wolves had broken into pairs and paid Deacon and the alpha little attention now.

Anton fucked him slowly, giving and taking the entire knot. It started to get bigger, and Deacon hissed angrily when one push stung sharply. Anton didn't pull out. They were locked together now, laying on their sides on the ceiling of the nightclub. 

Below them, the Wellington werewolves danced and grinded on each other below. Deacon could see at least two men getting head in other corners. Anton messaged his ass and then caressed his ribs and nipples, rearranging his shirt. "Who was it you wanted?"

"Hm?"

"Which one of them did you do this for?"

Throat dry, Deacon scanned the crowd but honestly couldn't remember who had shown him the most interest. He pointed at random. 

"Now that I've had you, you can have any of them."

It may have taken nearly two hundred years, but Deacon was in heaven. 

****

"Where have you been all night? It was a crazy night at Big Kahuna, you should have been zere." Viago said. 

"Crazy? What happened?"

They regaled Deacon with descriptions of the unwitting humans who had come into the club, became hypnotized and then passed around as part of a really fun drinking game. 

Deacon thought of how Anton's will had made an entire crowd of men and women begin fornicating in public. "My night was okay. I transformed into a cat and had sex and then into a bat and had more sex. I flew into the country and turned into a bull had even more sex--"

"Yes. Okay. We get it. You must be tired. You look very worn out. Did you eat nothing the whole time?"

"No. I forgot."

"Well, lucky for you Vlad brought home leftovers. Go see him for a sip before bed."

Deacon knocked on Vlad's door and was handed a half drained young woman who had a strong vitamin d taste. Yummy. It was the perfect end to the best night of his immortality.

*******

The next night, their group met up with Nick, who had Stu with him. Deacon was stricken with sudden fear that Stu would mention his being in the werewolf club and what had transpired. 

Stu looked him straight in the eyes and said nothing. Deacon tried to hypnotize him silently. 

_Do not tell them what you saw._

"What is the pack up to tonight?" Nick asked. 

One more time Stu looked at Deacon square on, without even a flutter of an eye. "Not much. Game night at Anton's. What have you lot been up to?

Deacon exhaled and let Viago tell the drinking game story.

At Big Kahuna, Deacon kept catching and holding Stu's eye until they ended up slipping into the alley out back. Deacon grabbed him by the face and snogged him. Stu wrapped his arms around him tightly and lifted him a few inches off the ground.

Deacon hummed and levitated them to the roof of the building, not only because he knew the werewolf wanted to have flying sex but because they wouldn't be caught up there.

Stu got right to business, with far less foreplay. But then their friends would come looking for them if they were gone too long. 

Stu began fucking him at a steady rhythm, the slap of hips against ass loud in the still night. Deacon waited for a knot to swell up, even flexed and rode the cock as hard as he could hoping to illicit one. It didn't happen. 

Stu's cock pulsed and he choked. He had come deep inside Deacon. No knot.

Deacon tried to enjoy the rush of warm seed but it was a pale reward compared to the sea of essence the alpha's knot had bled into him. 

Deacon hiked up his pants, angry. "Is everything okay, Stu? Are you ill?"

"No?"

"Then why didn't your cock do the knot?"

Stu blinked, passive expression registering surprise. "He didn't tell you? Knotting isn't... People don't knot for anyone unless it's a really really good match. It's to do with smell. And hormones, I suppose."

"Oh. So you don't find me so attractive?"

"I do. You're a handsome guy. A lot of fun. But sorry mate, it's just not meant to be I reckon."

Deacon sighed. "Well, thank you anyway, Stu. And for not telling the others."

"Yep. Sure."

"You better go back to the group. Tell them I am being a cat again."

Stu winked and jumped off the building landed in a crouch and then wandered off. 

Deacon went to find another werewolf.

****

Two nights later, Deacon returned to the house before sunrise. For the second night in a row since Stu, he had seduced a werewolf and received everything but a knot. And they all said the same thing. It just didn't happen often.

Disappointed, and not in the mood to chat, he tried to go straight to bed. But Vlad intercepted him. 

"What animal were you with tonight?"

"A dog."

Vlad narrowed his eyes. "What type of dog?"

Deacon was caught off guard. They never asked for details. "A white one. Very fluffy."

"The dog smell is very strong on you. You fuck this dog in your human form?"

"No!" Deacon said, offended by the imagery alone. "For fuck's sake. That is not my style."

Vlad peered at him a moment more and then shrugged, aloof. "The longer we live the more excitement we crave. Imagine the unspeakable things Pytr must have done, Huh?"

"Don't be gross Vlad."

"I am not one smelling of dog every night."

They hissed at each other and went their separate ways. 

*****

Deacon stuck close to home for a week or so, until Vlad stopped commenting on his sex life and the apparent inevitability of him breaking every natural law. Though, to be fair, a vampire and a werewolf was definitely breaking custom if not some actual supernatural law. So it wasn't like Vlad was totally off base.

His patience wore thin and there was a massive row in the flat about chores again, and Deacon flew away to blow off steam. 

He spotted Anton in a truck idling at a stoplight. His pulse quickened. So he flew into the open window and turned back into a man. 

"Jesus, Fuck!" Anton said when the bat invaded his space and then shape-shifted. He saw who it was and laughed. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Are you busy tonight?"

"No." he collected himself and drove through the intersection. "Just got off work. Headed home."

"I would like to see your home. You can show me what a bedroom is supposed to look like."

His eyes darkened. "I've heard you've been having fun with some of the lads."

"Some fun, yes."

"Jordan said you got snippy with him when he didn't knot for you."

Deacon laughed at the bluntness. "It is frustrating that I do not entice them more."

"Ah, it's not you, truly. Listen, they can't help it. Our sense of smell dominates our entire life and some smells do more for people than others. That's all."

"And my smell intoxicated you?"

"Yes,"he said, voice deep.

"Does it now?"

Anton's voice got even deeper, "Yes."

"So when you fuck me tonight, you will have another knot?"

"I'm fairly sure. Yes." he palmed himself and laughed with a slight shudder. "Fuck. I'm getting one now I think."

"Then drive faster."

Anton stuck to the speed limit. Even stopped for a pedestrian to cross. Deacon was growing impatient. 

Finally they arrived. 

Anton lived in a modern flat with thin curtains and no blood stains or cobwebs or damp. It was nice but did not feel very homey. 

"You have no roommates?"

"No. No, that's a really common misconception, actually, that a pack lives together. Individually, we're closer to the Lone Wolf stereotype. I like my space. My privacy."

"I, too, enjoy privacy but to live alone for eternity would be not so enjoyable."

"I'm not alone. I have my pack."

"But who tells you to do the dishes or tidy up?"

"No one tells me what to do."

Deacon's arms goose pimpled for some reason.

"I was going to offer you a drink but that wouldn't be wise would it?"

They snickered. Deacon relaxed a little. "I didn't come here for drinks and pleasantries."

"No, you didn't." His voice was a dark swirl of hot blooded desire. There was a beat in which Deacon expected Anton to pounce… but he didn't. 

Deacon glanced around. "... Shall I dance for you?"

Anton grinned, leaned on the door jam with his arms crossed. "Yea."

"Vhere is your record player?"

He produced a stereo and set some modern music playing. Deacon made it work and performed to the beat, wriggling his hips and belly.

Anton watched with approval shining in his eyes, a wolfish grin showing his teeth. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"From my days in the harem of Topkapı Palace in Turkey."

Interest made Anton cross his arms. "Harem? Get out! When was that?"

"After I was Turned, I became a köçek and performed for the sultan of the ottoman empire."

Anton actually giggled. "That's amazing. What other parts of history did you see? How old are you?"

Deacon grinned mysteriously and kept dancing. Anton watched without blinking, growing restless with energy. 

"Get over here," he commanded from the sofa. Deacon danced closer and was scooped into Anton's lap by arms of steel.

"You're too good at that," he growled, "I can't wait another minute to have you."

"You're so… warm," Deacon muttered, distracted by the thick aroma of wolf and the feel of a prominent bulge. The promise of a stretch he had been denied for too long.

Anton kissed him.

An hour later, they were sweaty and naked on the king sized bed, chuckling. Their bodies were locked together. Deacon was on a high stack on pillows, and Anton was kneeling behind him, petting his spine. The knot was seeping a steady trickle of seed into Deacon and had been for twenty minutes. Anton couldn't believe how long it was taking. According to him, most knots bled out in five to ten minutes.

"So not only do I make you knot I make you knot harder than anyone, ever?"

"You like that, don't you?"

He kissed Deacon's back and the nape of his neck. After a spell of lazy petting he broke the silence. "What year were you born?"

"1810," Deacon said, taking note of Anton's reaction in the mirror, where he appeared to be fucking some pillows instead of a man. "You?"

"1950."

Deacon did the math in his head. 140 years difference.

"Incredible isn't it?" Anton whispered. "Born over a hundred years apart and we fit together so perfectly." he flexed gently inside of Deacon who hissed with the pleasure-pain of it and sat up against Anton, who squeezed him tightly around the ribs.

"Yes. Good things come to those who wait."

"Good," Anton's hand felt where they were connected. "Because I think it just got bigger."

Deacon hung his head. "For crying out loud, stop being so aroused."

"Stop arousing me then."

"What have I done?"

"It's you wiggling against my chest. I'm very sensitive there."

Deacon turned himself on the knot very carefully until they were face to face. He dragged a finger between one of the diagonal scars on his torso. "From when you were turned?"

"Yes." Blue eyes became distant and pensive. "The wolf that did it was a scared little guy. I was trying to help him out. He attacked and ran off into the night."

"Have you ever seen him again?"

"I looked for him. Discovered he was slain by a hunter that same night."

Deacon's sympathy went out to him. "Yes. My sire, Pytr, was also killed by hunters."

"Have you ever turned anyone?"

"No."

Surprise registered on Anton's face. "Not one person? Really?"

"Have you?"

Guilt and regret made his face long and haggard. "I wish I haven't, but the first full moon-- the first few actually--I had such little control over myself. I didn't know what was happening…I reckon I've turned a few I don't even know about."

"And the ones you know, do they speak to you?"

Anton breathed deep and shook his head. "Those that survived won't speak to me, no."

"Give them time. I went many years before I forgave Pytr."

"Did you ever want to turn anyone? Don't all of you have familiars?"

"I had one. And Nick stole her from me. But... to be honest I did not want to turn her into a vampire." The confession left his ribcage feeling fluttery. He'd never told anyone something so real and private before.

Anton grinned like a punchline was coming. "Is she not worthy or something?"

Deacon looked at his fingernails. "I would put this curse on no one."

"Not even with their consent?"

"They have no idea what they are consenting to."

Anton harrumphed. "Got that right. If I had a choice…"

"You wouldn't be here." Deacon wouldn't either, if Pytr hadn't made the choice for him. 

"I was going to say that, but I realized I never would have met you." Anton caught his eye and brushed his cheek. "So now… I don't know."

Deacon grinned and looked down bashfully.

"Okay. Stop squirming so much or you are going to be too sore to walk tomorrow."

"What do I care? I can fly."

"Good point but we won't be able to fuck."

Deacon went perfectly still. Anton kissed him and then they worked together to recline so that they were comfortable and not straining anything.

Anton napped which was fun for Deacon to see. His nocturnal existence and hunting preferences meant he saw so few people sleeping. His own eyes sagged and then he woke to the act of Anton slipping out of him.

The sensation was incredibly strange. It had actually started to feel normal, so that now he felt amputated.

Anton did some stretches in the middle of the room. Deacon lazily enjoyed the sight but then his head snapped off the pillow. 

"The curtains." he tried to sit and found his arms and legs to be jelly. His ass was far too tender. "Make sure those curtains are closed tightly. Not a crack."

Alarm turned Anton pale. "Right yeah. Crikey, that would have been a disaster."

After securing the window, he spooned up behind him. Deacon allowed himself to be engulfed by arms and legs and tried to settle. But couldn't. He kept looking at the clock and the window. 

"Those curtains do not seem very thick. Light will shine in. I had better go."

"I can put a blanket up. Only--shit my skylight."

Deacon inhaled sharply. Yes, over the bathroom door was a skylight. He had not even noticed that. He forced himself upright. "I will go home. I must get there quickly."

He got to his feet but his movements were shaky. He doubted he had the strength to morph into anything with speed let alone make it across town like that.

Anton sat up and caught both his elbows, feeling for himself how weak Deacon was. "Fuck. I can't let you risk it. Listen, I have an attic with one small window. We'll camp up there for the day and next time I swear I'll be better prepared."

Deacon followed him upstairs to a musty room with bare wooden floors and one bare light bulb. The ceiling slanted on both sides, but it was spacious and mostly empty apart from what looked like an art studio.

"Do you paint?"

"Watercolors and paint by number. Nothing extraordinary."

"Can I see your work?"

Anton looked bashful for the first time. "It's really nothing to scream about. Couldn't make a living from it. Not like your knitting."

"Maybe I will show you how sometime, if you show me paintings."

"Sounds fun. Now for this window, I have a plan."

He lifted a large piece of plywood off the floor, where it appeared to be covering an access to the HVAC system. He leaned it against the small window and pushed a stack of boxes in front of it to seal it tight. Then he closed the curtains tight anyway.

Deacon relaxed. "That will do it. Thank you, Anton."

"I'll go get a mattress and blankets. You stay here."

Deacon hung upside down from the rafters, unhappy with the dissonance of the setting. Here he was getting shut up in a musty dark crypt and even if he made it home it would be to a coat closet with no air flow in a drafty old flat. Moments ago, he had been luxuriating in a master suite with cotton sheets and feather pillows, a flat screen TV and cable. It was the most luxury he had known since his days with the Sultan, who had pulled out all the stops for his immortal lovers.

With lots of banging, Anton returned with a futon mattress on his back. "From the den. The frame doesn't fit up the stairs, though, so it'll have to go on the floor."

"I don't even need one." Deacon said from his spot hanging on the rafters. 

Anton dropped onto the bed and held open his arms. "Not even with me here?"

Deacon turned out the light and flew down to him. 

****

Two days later there was another flat meeting. And it was all about Deacon's jerseys and mysterious behavior.

Viago's choice of gentle words suggested he and the others had already talked about it and knew the truth. They just wanted to hear Deacon say it in front of everyone.

It was Bullshit.

"It's important, I zink, that you get zis secret off of your chest. We're all a family in zis house. We luff each uzer and we support each uzer here and it's a safe house. We are all safe in zis house, Deacon. Just know zat." Viago said formally, visibly resisting the urge to look at the cameras around them.

"Go on, Deacon, tell us your shame," Vlad said. 

"Dat's--No. It's not his shame. Zer is no shame, is the point we are making," Viago said with a sharp look at Vlad. 

Vlad shrugged. 

Nick, who hadn't uttered a word yet, finally said, "Yeah, no shame in wanting to fuck a werewolf, mate."

"Okay," Viago cut in, loud and merry, "Zat is somzing Deacon should say, and maybe not wiz the course language so much anyway. Zis is meant to be a wholesome family moment."

The three flatmates each stared at Deacon, waiting. The cameras zoomed all around him. A tantrum threatened to bubble over, but Deacon stemmed it. Viago's wish for a wholesome family moment was one of those nice dandy things that Deacon appreciated having in his life, so he didn't want to ruin it. 

But why was it so hard to form the words?

Throat dry, he rasped, "I am a vampire who...likes... werewolves."

The others cheered and clapped for him. It was, oddly, a weird weight lifted. Deacon gulped and hugged Viago in thanks for insisting on this wholesome moment. Though he would have much preferred it happen away from cameras.

The filmmakers did ask a few prying questions that he really didn't want to answer on camera, so he gave mumbled answers or pretended not to know.

Viago had such bright, happy eyes he almost looked like a naive mortal again. "Is it Stu? Are you in luff with Stu?"

Deacon felt bashful at the L word, of which he had never felt romantically, and shook his head. "Not in love with anyone. I just like the idea of sex with hot blooded immortals."

Viago froze as he imagined it, then giggled uncomfortably and walked away. Vlad gave Deacon an understanding wink.

***

Due to a marathon of sex, Deacon wound up trapped in Anton's attic for a whole day again. Anton had to go to work, so Deacon slept but then woke late afternoon. Bored, he discovered the stack of water color paintings on the work table. 

They were mostly landscapes but some were abstract. And one took his breath away. The silhouette of two lovers on a hill watching a sunrise. It had been painted with care and attention. 

He tucked it all away and tried to pretend he hadn't seen that. ...An artist's dream of love that could never happen for a werewolf and a vampire.

Were they just kidding themselves?

Anton arrived after nightfall. Deacon captured his lips, ready to have his mind wiped of all these unsettling notions. He just wanted to feel good again. 

Anton pushed him off gently and made a pitiful face. "Sweetheart, I'm not really in the mood."

Deacon noticed a black eye. "What happened?"

"Just a small fight with one of the lads. I'm fine. We're all a bit stressed out and I lost it for a second." He punched the floor beside the mattress, denting the wood. "Fuck!" the word bounced off the close walls. He ran his hands through his hair. "The alpha isn't meant to lose control like that. I've set a rotten example and now they won't trust me like they should."

"It's the Full Moon approaching," Deacon said, desperate for something to blame. "Things will feel better after it wanes." His hand crept over Anton's chest. "I can make you feel better now too."

"No," he snapped, pushing his hand away. "It isn't the moon. I need to fucking sleep, like a normal person."

"So sleep, who's stopping you?"

"Are you serious right now? I haven't been sleeping because I have the clingiest Vampire boyfriend in the world."

Stung, Deacon bared his fangs. "I am not clingy."

"You show up every single night. I don't get to sleep all day like you. I've still got bills to pay and a pack to lead."

"I watch you sleep all the time."

"While I'm knotted in your arse, which is not comfortable and you know it."

Deacon scoffed and paced the floor. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

Anton sighed, looking weary. "Because it's not like you can help it, can you? You can't be in the sun."

"Fine then," Deacon stood. He didn't know where he was going but he knew he couldn't stay here, where that water color picture taunted him from its drawer. "Sleep."

"Going out with your friends? That'll be nice."

"Yes," he said aloof. He didn't know where the spite came from, but it licked out of him all of the sudden, "Or perhaps I will fuck someone else tonight."

Anton looked stung. "Oh, will you?"

Deacon kept a poker face. He considered taking it back but then let it stay out there. It felt easier that way. 

Anton huffed and rolled over with his back to him. "Fine then."

"Fine."

Deacon left the house feeling lost and confused. Anton was right, of course, he could not sustain eternity burning it at both ends. Juggling so much. 

He muttered curses under his breath and headed home. 

***

The next time Deacon saw Anton was a week later, and he was chilled out, back to the old pack alpha who let things roll off his back like water off a duck. 

Sex was first, and phenomenal against the werewolf club's bathroom mirror.

Freckled muscles twitched and rippled as Anton thrust deep inside Deacon. He could see every glorious inch of Anton's sculpted body and could even see the cock swelling into a knot before he felt it lock in his ass. The frenzy was suspended by heaving chests and the tang of sweat.

"See what a bit of time apart does?" Anton rasped happily. 

Deacon nodded, too wrecked to be contrary for the sake of it. And he was right, of course. It was good to yearn for one another. 

Perhaps it wasn't so hopeless to be together.... 

It took thirty minutes for the knot to fade. Deacon relished the warmth caging him to the cold glass, that was literally seeping into him, filling him like a hot water bottle. 

People came in for the loo every few minutes. Each of them grinned approvingly at the sight, did their business, and walked away. Every time new eyes raked over Deacon's bare hips and traced his naked spine, he trembled. But more than one balked when they noticed he didn't have a reflection and Anton barked orders for them to get the hell out of there.

Deacon's breath thinned out as his heart beat harder. Not every wolf in Wellington approved of this. The Pack said they didn't mind--but was that their honest opinion or was it influenced by their Alpha's will? Had Anton's fight last month been about him dating a Vampire?

What if--what if one day an ambitious wolf decided he could be a better alpha?

Deacon shuddered. Anton moved closer as if shielding him from cold winds. "I've got you."

When they could finally separate again, Deacon clenched to keep the warm seed inside, which made walking awkward.

Anton chuckled, lifted him bridal style, and bumped their noses in one of those wolf kisses.

"Thank you for coming out with me tonight," Deacon said cordially. Nerves. "I know you need rest."

"I rested all week. This is our time."

Deacon bit his lip to stop the jumble of pathetic words that rushed to his tongue. There was _so_ much he needed to say, but he didn't know how.

"Besides, tonight is a special night," Anton whispered conspiratorially. "I want you to see something."

Curiosity got the better of him. "Vhere are we going?"

"You'll see."

Anton took him to a parking lot of an old shut down factory outside of town. There was no view, no secret underground party, no one to hunt.

"Vhat is this place?"

"This is where I was turned into a werewolf 32 years ago tonight."

"Oh. My..." Deacon didn't know what to say. He had not been expecting this.

Anton checked his watch again. "Aaaaand now, i've officially been a werewolf longer than I was ever human."

Deacon's throat tightened. He could remember passing this milestone himself, over a century ago. Before he met Viago and Vlad. He had not yet forgiven Petyr, so it had been the loneliest night of his entire existence.

"Why didn't you tell me this night was approaching?! I could have thrown you such a big party." He would have too, conflicted emotions be damned. It would have outdone the unholy masquerade even. Because no one deserved facing eternity alone. No one.

Anton shook his head. "No. I didn't want fanfare. I guess it's why I've been extra stressed lately, too. I had a lot of thinking to do, and I just didn't tell anyone else."

"VHAT? THAT IS WORSE!"

Anton looked bewildered. "Worse how?"

"Darling, do not make me so precious in your life."

The thoughtless term of endearment made Anton's grin soft. "Why not? You are."

"But I shouldn't be!" Deacon practically shouted, retreating from his hold. He wanted to shut up, but he'd tapped the main artery of his concerns and now it was all spewing out of him. "I am a vampire. You are a werewolf. You saw the way those people looked at us."

"I don't give a flying flip about--"

"They are right, Anton! I am cursed to live in the cold, cold darkness for all of eternity. You are blessed with an eternity full of sunshine and human food. We are not compatible."

"No one is compatible right off the bat. It takes compromise."

"Compromise? No. Not of this scale, Anton. No. I forbid it."

Anton laughed. Deacon hissed to cut across his standard alpha spiel. "You can not control my will on this. I will not let you confine yourself to the shadows when you are not bound to them such as I."

"I know it's scary. But this is happening. I have feelings for you, Deak."

"Do you?" an idea flared brightly in Deacon's mind. It hurt, but it could be his way out of this nightmare. "Or am I just the immortal who happened to be riding your dick when the true meaning of eternity hit you?"

Anton took a step back, hands up. "Whoa now, it's more than that, mate, I can promise you," that alpha cocksuredness wavered. "My feelings for you--"

Deacon hissed viciously, unable to bear the rest of that lovely sentence. "Forget those feelings. _Kill_ them. ...I want you free of this."

Before Anton could object, Deacon turned into a bat and flew away.

Upside down in his room, Deacon refused to speak to any of his roommates. He was not hungry or even in the mood to knit. He just wanted to dwell in darkness where he belonged, dwell until he forgot the heat of freckled skin, the ache of a big knot pumping him full of warmth. 

How long would that take? A century? Two?

The others tried to coax him to come out with them for the night. He refused. 

An hour later, he heard footsteps on the stairs, coming down the hallway. Deacon moaned. "Leave me to my dark bidding."

The door opened forcefully. Deacon hissed and attacked--Anton. 

The werewolf caught him by the elbows and forced him into a corner of the closet, slammed the door behind him. 

Deacon was suddenly entombed in total darkness with Anton's hot blooded body pressed up against him, holding him so close. 

"Anton--"

"Ssh. Don't speak." There was something rough and raw in Anton's voice. And he was shaking. He kissed Deacon, deeply.

The sex began swiftly with no preamble but then it was slow and gentle. New. Except it wasn't new, not really. Memories were sparking to life. Faded, from before Deacon was turned.... Hearts beating. Shared breath. Tingles from head to toe. Slowly, Deacon was reminded of the push and pull of a force within. His soul. This wasn't about their bodies and what fluids could be traded. Anton was making love to him. Pouring his own spirit into Deacon and drinking some back out. 

Deacon returned it all. Rusty. Vulnerable. But Anton responded with verve and the passion escalated until Anton sank his teeth into the space between Deacon's shoulder blades. The sting made him hiss but the immediate warmth that washed through him made his toes curl and he basked in it, begging for more. His heart had been opened like a vein. But the blood wasn't bleeding out. Something else was bleeding into him.

Knotted, frenzy suspended, Deacon's skin felt oddly feverish. And his eyelids were suddenly as heavy as rocks. What was happening to him?

"I've got you, darling," Anton whispered so softly it was barely a sound, his lips so gentle on his ear. "I've got you."

....Deacon woke a few hours later. He was still in his tiny room, curled on Anton's lap like a cat. They were no longer connected by the knot. Anton had separated and cleaned them both up. Now they were holding each other on the floor of the closet. Deacon had never been so warm. 

"You stayed?"

"Of course I stayed," Anton whispered, stroking his hair. Then his hand grazed the bite mark between his shoulder blades. Deacon felt a flutter and let out a soft moan.

Anton chuckled happily. "It's called the First Mark. Step one of a Claim. It only happens when the bond is true. For soulmates."

Deacon gulped.

Anton sensed his unease and soothed him with more strokes to his hair, but he avoided the tender spot for now.

"First Mark is a bit of a trial period. To see if we like it." he paused, then sounded as if he had to force the next words out. "You can reject it if you want."

Deacon knew what he must do. He had to reject it. To save Anton from being torn between two worlds for all eternity. 

At length he spoke. "Why would you do this? Nothing has changed... We can't be together."

"I couldn't help myself…" For a moment Deacon thought Anton would explain further but then his voice fortified, "Like I said you can reject it."

This sucked, in the bad way. Deacon felt like throwing a tantrum but he would need more space for that. Instead, he asked dully, "How?"

Anton's breathing matched someone slowly bleeding to death. "We don't do anything and let this bite heal without making the Second Mark."

Easy enough. Deacon took a breath to speak but Anton squeezed him. "Don't say anything. Sleep on it for a day. Please?"

It was a desperate plea from an alpha for once not telling someone what to do but begging. 

It stopped Deacon's vow of rejection before the first syllable sounded.

Lost, he kissed Anton goodbye, and with some shuffling and a few bangs, the werewolf freed himself from the closet and then sealed him back up safely with a final, soft knock.

As Anton's heavy steps faded downstairs, Deacon became aware of a strange wall in his mind. Almost like the invisible barriers that only vanished once he was invited in. 

Only this time, when he pushed against it, it collapsed. 

He gasped as _Anton_ flooded his mind. Swirling thoughts not Deacon's own seemed to detect his presence and snapped into a knife's edge.

 _Hullo, Deak._ Anton's voice furled through Deacon's mind like smoke.

A vampire was alone in a dark house, and a werewolf was out on the dark street, but they were kind of _looking_ at one another. 

_Hello. Dick._

_What do you see?_

_Nothing. Darkness. But I sense your presence here._

_Use my eyes._

Deacon frowned but then saw what Anton meant. There was this way to turn, mentally, and--

Suddenly he could see the outside of the house, the starless night sky, street lamps and parked cars on the street. He could see what Anton was seeing!

_Surprised?_

_How is this possible? Vampires cannot be hypnotized by werewolves._

_It isn't mind control. It's a soul bond. We're one, now, sharing two bodies. Basically it's like we're talking to ourselves._

_Why have I never heard of this ability before?_

_How many werewolves have you gotten to know?_

_Point taken_.

Deacon could sense four more directions to turn, and quickly ascertained how to tap into the other senses too. He found a sixth barrier, but it would not come down like the first one. He gave up and focused on tapping into all five senses at once. Impossible. But he could do two together. He settled for sight and sensation.

Anton began jogging, just to burn off excess energy. His fingertips were tingly, and his cheeks hurt from smiling. Deacon could _feel_ this. The view of the street was bouncing, and veered suddenly.

 _The blood rushing to your head is making me feel giddy_ , Anton said. _Do you have to hang upside down?_

_Do you have to run?_

_I want to get somewhere before it's too late._

_Too late for what?_

Anton charged up a grassy hill and skidded to a stop, panting. 

_Ssh. Stop talking. Look_.

Anton sat down, facing the east.

Deacon stopped breathing when he realized what was about to happen. He focused harder on seeing through Anton's eyes. He couldn't miss this--

The first brush of lush pink streaked through the sky. Deacon gasped out loud in his tomb. Anton sort of reached for him, through the link. 

Deacon reached back.

They watched the sun rise until it was high in the sky. White, bright, and warm. Deacon saw the true bright colors of the world for the first time in almost 200 years. The trees had so many shades of green and brown, even whites and grays. The sky was so blue it hurt.

Anton's voice resonated through Deacon's entire body, 

_You aren't binding me to the shadows, Deak. I'm pulling you into the light_.

In the dark, blood ran down Deacon's face, indistinguishable from Anton's tears of joy. 

_The second mark will make this permanent. And we would feel each other's emotions too._ Anton promised.

The sixth barrier would vanish. Deacon gulped.

_Must any time pass before we do the Second Mark?_

Anton paused. _Some time. Just to really get the hang of it. Wouldn't want to do too much at once and drive each other crazy._

Deacon relaxed. _Agreed._

 _Now_ , Anton headed back down the hill at a leisurely stroll, taking in the sights for Deacon to enjoy. _When was the last time you tasted a strawberry_


End file.
